Gabriel's Heart [The Men of Treasure Cove 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  The Men of Treasure Cove 5

  Gabriel's Heart

  Destined to live alone, Gabriel Sexton has never said a word about the hunger inside him. Never able to touch her, to hold her, to love her, she lives in his dreams, where he can cherish her as he wishes. Struggling with his desires, he is gifted one night to bask in her glory.

  Antoinette has loved Gabriel since childhood. Her protector, confidant, and friend, she prayed that some day he would be hers. She gives in to her desire for Gabriel, only to have her dreams shattered when he walks away.

  Alexander Ellis has quietly lived in the shadows of a man he has considered his best friend from childhood. Concerned, he travels to Treasure Cove, only to lose his heart to the one woman his friend desires.

  When a secret from the past seems destined to destroy them, can forgiveness soothe the soul or will shattered dreams keep all of them apart forever?

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 66,625 words

  GABRIEL’S HEART

  The Men of Treasure Cove 5

  Rebecca Joyce

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  GABRIEL’S HEART

  Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Joyce

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-944-8

  First E-book Publication: June 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Gabriel’s Heart by Rebecca Joyce from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Rebecca Joyce’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Joyce’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To my husband, over the years we have lived, laughed, and loved together as married couples do. Through it all, we have also yelled and fought, but regardless of the situation, we have done it together, and after 19 years of marriage, we are still running strong. Thank you for never giving up on me, listening when I needed to talk, and holding me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. You are my best friend, my lover, my husband. I love you.

  GABRIEL’S HEART

  The Men of Treasure Cove 5

  REBECCA JOYCE

  Copyright © 2013

  Prologue

  Devonshire, England, 1824.

  She had no choice.

  Even though she refused, the decision was not hers to make. They had signed the contract, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  She had made her opinions known, and quite loudly, she thought, but she knew there was nothing more to say that would change their minds.

  Even forcing her to do something she adamantly refused to do, they never considered her sheer determination to live her own life as she saw fit. It was that sheer determination that gave her the courage to embark on an idea that was so unheard of. If caught, not only would she be ruined in the eyes of society, she would be shunned to the bowels of Scotland and never heard of again. That was something she could not think about, for tonight nothing was going stop her from achieving her independence.

  Silently slipping from her bed, she prayed no one woke as she grabbed her purse and, as quietly as possible, sneaked out of her room.

  She was fleeing, running as fast as her feet could take her. She had to get away. Unable to wait a moment more, she could no longer obey their decision. It was imperative that she disappear before they woke. She was not going to be forced to marry into a family she loathed.

  She would not be the one her family hung their hopes on.

  Silently tiptoeing down the hall, she knew which planks cracked, and she avoided them as if they were the plague. Making it to the stairs, she lifted her skirts, raised her leg, and threw it over the banister. Ever so gently, she slid her way down the rail, silently thanking her little nephews for their rambunctious behavior. If not for them, she would have never considered this option. Reaching the bottom, she once again planted both feet on the hard floor.

  Treading quietly, she moved toward the large double doors at the front of the house, her slender fingers reaching the door knob. Slowly turning, she looked about her. This was the only place she had ever known.

  She wished her mother had survived her birth. She would give anything to gaze upon her mother, who was loved and adored by many. Her own father grieved at the death of his beloved wife, and shortly after her death, he took his own life, leaving his only daughter to be raised by his relatives. Cherished by her aunt and uncle, she never wanted for anything. Now, as she looked one last time, making sure she left no detail unnoticed, she sighed, for this would be the last time she ever entered this house. She knew the moment she opened the door and closed it that the future before her was not going to be easy; but left with the choice of marriage to a man whose character made her tremble even thinking about it, she chose to spend the remainder of her life as a pauper rather than the wife of a man she abhorred.

  Steeling herself, she walked away from everything she had ever known.

  The night air was crisp, and she welcomed it. The moon shined brightly, almost as if it were lighting the way for her. She took it as a sign that she was doing t
he right thing, but until she was safely aboard the Widow Maker she was not going to take any chances. She walked within the confines of the dense forest, keeping herself hidden from passing travelers and unsavory highwaymen.

  She had to get to the ship before sunrise, or she would be found and returned.

  The Widow Maker was due to leave port at exactly dawn. Determined to be on that ship before it sailed, she did not care which direction it took as long as she was on it.

  She had made this journey several times over the last week, timing herself on how long it was going to take and knowing which direction would take her there the quickest. She knew which pace to set and when to stop, but tonight, she was taking no chances and there would be no stopping, so when she heard the sounds of hooves pounding the road near her, she quickly ran deeper into the forest.

  Hiding behind a tree, she cursed the late-night traveler and waited until the horse and rider were past, but when she heard a loud snap, she immediately thought she had stepped on a twig. She took a quick breath and held it, silently praying.

  After a few minutes of complete silence, she emerged from the forest and continued walking when she heard the moan. Turning around quickly, she saw a body lying in the road. She waited what felt like an eternity, and when the body did not make another sound, she thought it was another drunken man who had fallen too deeply into his cups, and turned to continue on when she distinctly heard, “Please help me.”

  “I do not have time for this!” She scoffed, ignoring the strong desire to help the man.

  She needed to get to that ship before it left, but her conscience once again ruled, and she could not allow herself to leave this helpless person to the fates of highwaymen that roamed.

  “Please help me,” the voice said again.

  Sighing, she quickly walked toward the person. As she got closer, she realized it was not just any man, but a man of wealth.

  Lying on his back, his face was swollen and bruised—no doubt from taking another man’s wife or gambling and not having the funds to pay the debt, but who was she to criticize? She, too, was running.

  The man before her now was not what he seemed. Dressed in the finest linen of satin and silks, he exuded power and wealth. His hair was as black as the evening night and even in the moonlight, its darkness hid its shine. He was a tall man, too, at least six three, maybe four. It was his shoes that threw her off guard, not the dandy slippers the leading gentry wore, but black riding boots. They were worn, not shiny like most she had known.

  “Please help me,” he said once more.

  “Can you stand?” she asked, hoping he could do so of his own accord, for she was not too eager to help the man up. There was something about him that shouted danger. “I will not be much help if you cannot.”

  “I think I can if you can give me your hand,” he replied.

  Extending her hand, she waited for him to take hold. She gasped as the man took hold of her wrist and started to stand. The searing heat of his touch made her tremble. She had never touched a man before, and the hard softness of his warm hand awakened something deep within her. Unsure of what it was, she quickly shook off the unpleasant feeling and helped him to his feet.

  It was not an easy feat for her, for he was noticeably larger than her and twice her size. Once the man was standing before her, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. The man was a mountain and unusually hard as he looked down at her with his audacious silvery eyes.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said slowly, leaning over to brush his trousers off.

  “You’re quite welcome. Good-bye,” she said quickly as her face heated, before turning and walking toward her destination.

  “Wait. You just cannot leave like that,” he shouted, running to catch up with her. “Where are you headed this late?”

  She kept walking, trying to ignore him. “That is my business. Good-bye,” she said again with a little annoyance to her voice. She had to get rid of this man. She did not want anyone to know who she was or why she was fleeing.

  “It’s a little late at night for a stroll, my dear. Let me assist you safely back home?”

  “I am heading home,” she replied curtly.

  “Then allow me the honor of escorting you there. It is the least I can do. Sebastian William Gerard Sexton at your service.” He bowed, showing her all the goodwill in the world as if he had not been beaten to a pulp.

  “No, thank you. Good-bye,” she said again.

  “Well, my dear, since it seems we are both headed in the same direction, would you mind if I walk beside you and keep you company till our paths no longer connect? I would hate for you to come across a highwayman and be taken captive,” he said.

  “What you do or where you walk is no concern of mine. Good-bye.”

  “At least grace me with the name of my savior,” he asked, trying to catch up with her. She knew she could not give him her real name because if she did, he would be honor bound to see her safely to her destination. So pretending to be a gentlewoman of no rank, she whispered her given name, hoping to dissuade him from following her further. “Penelope.”

  “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, and pray tell, what is your surname?”

  “Donavon.”

  “So where is home, Miss Donavon?” he asked, and she noticed the smile on his face.

  “America,” she whispered.

  “The country of savages and beasts. So which are you, my dear, savage or beast?”

  “Neither and you are being an ass.”

  “My sincerest apology, Madam. I’m just trying to pass the time since you have inundated me with your intellectual wit.”

  “Harrumph!”

  They walked in total silence through the night. As the dawn began to approach, the seaport of Plymouth loomed ahead. Still they walked in silence until they entered the town. He turned to her and bowed as a large carriage approached.

  Stilling in fear, she eyed the ducal crest on the side door and was about to bolt when he took her hand and said, “It was lovely making your acquaintance, Miss Donavon. I’ve enjoyed your intellectual conversations, but I must be off, for my carriage has finally found me. Safe travels, my dear.”

  She watched in total shock as the man turned and stepped into the grand carriage. She never flinched, too afraid to breathe. The moment the coach took off, she quickly made haste toward the docks, and soon found the Widow Maker.

  The large schooner ship was a thing of beauty, and for her it was even lovelier, for it was her trip to freedom. Amazed at the size and sleekness of the ship, she watched as men loaded cargo and supplies for it voyage. They moved about her as if she were invisible, ignoring her and reading the ship for its departure.

  “Where is the captain?” she asked a sailor carrying a sack of potatoes, but he never replied, ignoring her as he walked on board the ship. “Please, I have personal business with the captain.”

  She needed to make sure the ship was leaving on time. She knew once that coach reached its destination she would be found out, and it would be headed back toward the docks. Still in shock from realizing she had been walking with her intended’s son all night, she shook off the feeling and searched for the captain. She needed this ship to pull up anchor and leave immediately.

  So, taking matters into her own hands, she walked the rail that led to the ship. Once on board, she continued to ask, “Where might I find the captain?” Still everyone ignored her.

  She had met some ignorant men in her life, but these men took the cake! Turning around, she knew there had to be a room somewhere where the captain might be, and she soon eyed a door to where she assumed the sleeping quarters were. Making her way toward it, she opened it to find a long hallway. Slowly walking and peeking in rooms as she went along, she found sleeping quarters and a kitchen but no captain. At the end of the hall stood an ornately carved door. Not bothering to knock, she entered the room to find an old man sitting before a desk, looking at charts.

  “Don’t you know to knoc
k, lad?” the old man asked.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, Captain, but I need this ship to leave immediately,” she demanded.

  The old man turned to look at the young girl before him, and he smiled. “Well, lass, we leave when the captain says we do.”

  “Aren’t you he?”

  “No, lass.”

  “I need to speak with the captain. It is imperative this ship leaves immediately,” she shouted in frustration. Where is the damn captain?

  “Now, lass, there is nutt’n a thing to worry about. Let me show you a room,” he said as he stood and made his way toward her. She backed up quickly, hitting her head hard on the wall behind her. Everything went black as the old man reached for her.

  * * * *

  Sebastian cringed when he walked into his father’s library. Just the thought of seeing the old bastard curdled his stomach. He knew not why his father summoned him home, but when the post arrived with the ducal crest, he knew his days of freedom were over.

  The only son of the current Duke of Avalon, and the cousin to George IV, the King of England, and tenth in line to the throne, Sebastian did not have the luxury of ignoring the situation. Instead, he did what any good male would do. He ignored it just long enough to get drunk, find a willing wench, and have one last good fight before returning home. Though, of course, he did not plan on getting accosted by those damn highwaymen, nor walking most of the night, but what his father did not know was for the best.

  Walking over to the fireplace, he warmed himself while waiting.